It's In His DNA
by ShatteredAngelWings
Summary: [Chlerek/ AU/all-human.] When Chloe Saunders attracts the unwanted attention of Royce Banks, she finds herself gravitating towards the broody brother of Simon, one Derek Souza.
1. Chapter 1

01

CHLOE SAUNDERS HAS never has been one to get in trouble. No, she is a good girl; she does her homework and class work well, does her chores (what little she has), and stays clear of the "wrong crowd", as her friends have warned her about.

She's a nice girl with flat strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes the same shade of the sky, and skin the color of porcelain with a splash of freckles that show up if she sits in the sun for more then ten minutes. She's tiny, with perky, more accurately nonexistent, breasts; a flat stomach; small, slender thighs that flare out slightly; a round butt; long legs; and petite feet.

So, with all that going for her, how on earth is Chloe sitting in detention with the school's most notorious player, Royce Banks? He keeps sending her sly glances, making her skin prickle uncomfortably as she works on her algebra homework. The only sound is the teacher's heavy mouth breathing, the scratching of her pencil and the eraser tearing the corner of her math paper. "You know," says Royce and she looks at him.

He's medium height, with a lanky build and slight muscles. His long, wavy brown hair curls around his face, reminding her of an evil Cherub with dark brown eyes that stare at her chest the entire time he's talking to her and bronze skin. He wears a smarmy smile that says he thinks he's hot and can get anything he has his eye on.  
Apparently, he has his eye on her. Chloe takes a deep breath, shoves down the erratic panic and the clock ticks away, lulling her into calmness.

"You're really pretty," he drawls, his eyes languidly rolling over her. "Big blue eyes, pretty blonde hair, plump pink lips." The way he talks makes her skin crawl. "How 'bout you and I get to know each other?" Not trusting her voice, she shakes her head furiously and then returns to the last algebra problem. She adds a negative two to each side of the lower equation and begins to use elimination to find the x value. Royce leans in closer, the sharp smell of run and cigar smoke burning Chloe's eyes.

"No thanks." Her voice, surprisingly, is calm and strong as she rejects him. His face twists unpleasantly. "No?" His voice is laced with anger. "Nobody says no to me."  
"She just did, Banks, now back off," calmly replies a new voice that makes her relax and she turns to look at the other boy.  
He's massive, dwarfing the chair easily yet he looks as menacing as he does when he's walking. His frame is large and muscular, the linebacker type that she admires from afar. His hair is black and falls lank into his toxic-waste green eyes and his skin is the color of ivory, aside from the flushed acne on his cheeks. Despite being huge, she feels safer with this stranger than Royce, who's gripping her knee painfully. She squeaks in pain.

"Let me go!" she whispers furiously, her heart crashing against her chest. "No, you little stuttering freak," Royce hisses in a deadly voice. Without thinking, she digs her nails into his wrist and he snarls, retreating. "You'll pay," he whispers, eyes burning with hate. "Not before you go through me," says the green-eyed boy. She glances at his muscles and compares the two; Royce is leaner than him and less muscular and the green-eyed boy can definitely take him on with just strength alone.

"You may go," the mouth-breathing teacher announces sleepily from the desk and Chloe keeps her eyes on the black-haired boy. "Thank you," she says softly, mouth going dry when he looks at her. "Royce won't stop until he has you," the boy says. "I'm, um, Chloe." Her mind is racing when calm and exotic eyes meet hers. "Derek." His voice is a low, throaty rumble that makes her shiver.

"Guys!" squeals a voice and she's hugged hard from the side. "Simon," sighs Derek, looking a bit annoyed. The blonde boy pulls back, looks between them and grins. "It's the happy couple!" Chloe squeaks quietly; Derek grunts, as the tips of his ears turn red; and Simon giggles obnoxiously.

"Simon!" Liz, a bundle of blonde hair and Gap jeans, runs in, hand-in-hand with Tori, the complete opposite with spiky black hair and chunky black boots.  
"So you've met Derek," muses the Goth girl with a smirk, crossing her arms over her large breasts. "Do you guys know him?" Chloe asks as Simon giggles even louder. "He's my brother, have I never talked about him to you?"

She looks between Derek, tall, dark, brooding, and Simon, tall, light and bubbly, trying to make the connection. "Twins," mutters Derek and a laugh escapes her mouth. His full, pink lips twist into a half-smile. Simon gasps. "You made him smile!" he shrieks as they make their way out of the detention room. Someone purposefully bumps into her, making her stumble and hit the lockers. "Just wait 'til I get you _alone_," hisses a voice and then Royce's lean body is pressed against her back, making her whimper.

"Royce," says a curt voice, cold and cruel and she looks up, trembling to the point of her stomach aching, into Derek's blazing eyes. Simon looks ready to beat Royce to bloody pulp and Tori's eyeballing her nails as if trying to decide if they'll tear into his skin cleanly or raggedly. "Next time, freak," snarls Royce and he shoves Chloe hard into the lockers. Before she can so much as blink, Derek has Royce by the shirt collar and is pressing him into the lockers. Their eyes meet, Derek's burning with fury, Royce's wide with fear; Chloe can feel Derek radiating heat. Tentatively, she lays a hand on his elbow and he blinks several times. He drops Royce unceremoniously on the floor, turns on his heel and his head dips down so his eyes can stare into hers.

Someone makes a catcall.

"You ass," she mutters as she sees Nate's flaming hair and grinning face. His chubby cheeks look flushed. "I always get what I want," Royce drawls from the floor Chloe scowls. "You can't have me," she says, surprised with her boldness. His smile is greasy and oily and scares her as he gets up. He suddenly pins her, her head hitting the lockers and his mouth is too close. She panics, clawing at him and her nails rake down the side of his face. With a curse, he pulls away, hand cupping the bleeding lines. Chloe manages to stumble away before his fist connects with the lockers loudly.

She trembles.

"You're going to be sorry, you skinny bitch!" he snarls and she blinks back hot tears. "Your fight is with _me_, not her, Banks," Derek says coldly, his eyes glowering out from behind his thick bangs. "The little bitch _scratched _me, Souza! She'll get what's coming for turning down Royce Banks."

The pompous boy stomps away and disappears around the corner.

Silence reigns.

Chloe wraps her arms around herself, sucks in a shaky breath. She can't get enough air and she feels faint; her breathing is short and choppy. A ragged rattling crawls out of her mouth that barely passes as a breath as sweat breaks out over her skin, making her feel colder than she already is. "Chloe?" She sways dangerously, her legs weak, her heart pounding in hyper drive. Derek's melodic voice is far away, fading into nothingness as tears sting her face.

They carve hot trails into her cheeks as she trembles and hyperventilates. She can barely feel the hands gripping her elbow tightly, let alone see the boy holding her; all she can feel is the icy cold closing in on her. It seeps into her lungs, freezes them and slowly turns her into an icicle. Her blood turns to ice water, her lungs frost, her skin frozen crystals of frosty sweat. "Ch…" She sways, a snowflake dancing in the bitter breeze and drifts into the sky.

The sky feels like hard tiles.


	2. Chapter 2

02

HER MOUTH TASTES like rusted metal when she wakes up. Everything is blurry, like there's a film over her eyes; every inch of her body is tender like she's worked out for several hours vigorously and she feels weak, like she hasn't slept in days. With every blink of her eyes, there's a gritty feeling that dissolves ever so slightly. Soon, she can see fine, although her eyes still feel gritty.

The room is pale blue with undertones of blue-green at the bottom of the walls; the ceiling is high, painted to look like a clear blue sky. The bed is soft, downy; the blankets are green and black; the sheets are grey and blue. Her pillow smells like cinnamon and lavender.

Chloe rolls to her side, her eyes widening at the sight of her father beside her. "Asthma attack," he mutters, stroking her cheek. She's confused. "I haven't had one since—"

"Since your mother died," he supplies softly, his face drawn and he suddenly looks like a man mourning the lost of his wife, years aged. Chloe turns her head away, knowing she looks like her mother. "I know," he adds in an even softer voice. She can't look at him, especially knowing that he sees her mom in her.

There's a knock on the door and Simon all but skips in, dragging Derek behind him. She can feel her throat constrict, threatening tears. "You're awake!" gasps Simon before smothering her in a grass-scented hug and she wraps her weightless arms around him. He feels solid beneath her fingertips, hard and humming with energy but her eyelids are heavy with the grit of sleep.

"Yeah," she manages to whisper. He lets out a shrill noise that sounds like a mix of a laugh and a giggle. She relaxes against the pillows, inhaling the scent that's so familiar and comforting but then he pulls away. "I didn't know you had asthma," Simon says, tugging on one of her curls.

Now that she's close to him, she can see the slight stubble on his jaw, the light bruising under his eyes and the fear behind his eyes. His hair sticks up on one side like he'd been sleeping on a desk; there is a drool mark nest to the corner of his mouth and a red mark on his eyebrow.

"I had it when I was a kid," she explains, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "Well, I'm diabetic," he says after a moment, his eyes meeting hers; the smile he gives her doesn't reach his eyes. "We thought you had a panic attack," Derek rumbles, looking out of place in his black-on-black ensemble. He looks good, though, in the tight black tee and tight black jeans that show off his long legs. "Me too," she mumbles, noticing how long her nails are and pretending to be very engrossed in studying them.

For the longest time, no one says anything; Derek moves closer and stares down at her unnervingly; Simon beelines out of the room, claiming he needs to pee; and Steve slips out for coffee. "You'll need some," he says with a pained smile on his face but, when he turns to leave, the smile falls away and he slinks out, a broken man yearning for his wife, dead for twelve years.

"He told me I look like her," she says quietly after a while, staring at the doorframe. Derek shifts, his warmth spilling onto her skin and she breathes out the breath she's been holding to pass time. "My mom had the prettiest, curliest hair," Chloe says, "and the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen." Her hands come up, her fingers working through the gnarled mess of tangles and bedhead; she laughs softly whenever her fingers catch on the knots.

"When I was three, my mom got cancer. She was too far gone to seek treatment and she died while I was in first grade. I remember some lady in a red pantsuit came in, whispered in my teacher's ear and I left. I was worried; did I do something wrong? Had something happened to my dad?" The laughs is bordering on hysterical.

"They brought in the counselor, sat me down and she told me, looking in my eyes, 'Chloe, you're mother's dead.' At first, it didn't register, you know?" She bites her lip until she tastes blood and begins to twist her nappy hair. "It was like I was shocked with electricity, cold ripping through me. I started laughing, thinking it was a joke but then when I saw my dad come in, his eyes red and his nose pink like he'd been blowing his nose…I knew." She bows her head. "He kept staring at me, wide-eyed, and then he burst into tears. Kept crying and crying until he got sick."

There's silence. "He sat down in a chair and held his head. He never even looked up. 'You look like your mother,' he told me—er, rather he told the table."

She closes her eyes and hides her face in the pillow. A soft hand caresses her hair, working gentle fingers through the tangles. "He must be reminded of your mother," says Derek.

She shrugs him off.

"Or maybe he just hates me."

A short intake of breath, an exhale, and then: "I'm sure he doesn't." "I'm sure he does. He hates me because I look like her."

A pause. "He's probably just tired."

"Tired of me."

His warm breath tickles her ear. "I'm sure no one can be tired of you, Chloe." The door opens, slams shut and then the smell of coffee wafts in along with the bitter, icy chill of winter. "I thought her dad was going to get coffee."

"Nah. He's outside talking to some blonde lady. I needed my insulin so I decided to grab some stuff." She pulls her face out of the pillow to stare at him. "Blonde woman? Was she wearing a doctor's coat?" Just as the words spill from her lips, the door slams open.

"Chloe!" shrills a voice.

Aunt Lauren is here.


	3. Chapter 3

03

"THE ELDEST BROTHER begged, 'Please, Death, make a tool, a wand that will win every fight, every duel." He licked his finger and turned the page, watching his nephew's sleeping face.

"And so Death broke a branch off an elder tree and fashioned a wand and gave the Elder Wand to the eldest. Little did the brother know, he would become drunk off the power of the wand, brag about its invincibility, and be slain where he slept." The little bundle of brown hair stirred.

"Hermione's such a book worm," sighed Derek's nephew. "Abraham, she's just a character." Derek ran his fingers through the child's unruly hair and he smiled. "The second brother told Death to give him magic instead, the power to bring those back from the dead. So Death picked up a stone from the riverside and told him magic was inside and activated by turning it thrice in hand."

"That's so cool!" the boy gushed.

"It's almost ten, you should sleep," Derek muttered, knowing the little boy would throw a fit rather than sleep.

"Just finish the story," begged Abraham. Derek sighed and continued. "But when the brother turned the stone thrice in hand, he saw his beloved bride but soon, she was not herself. She was unhappy and deteriorated—"

"Zombie!"

Derek gave him a hard look.

"Sorry."

"—And he drove himself mad and took his life to be with her and Death took the brother's soul as his own. The youngest of the three told Death he didn't trust him, told him to leave him alone for the rest of his days. Though Death was reluctant, he handed the brother his invisibility cloak. For years, he could not find the wizard but only when the time came for him leave his world behind did the wizard reveal himself." Abraham yawned and looked sleepily at his teenage uncle.

"'The wizard handed the cloak to his son and embraced Death as an old friend,' Hermione finished. And all was silent in the Lovegood household." Derek tucked his nephew in further, kissed his forehead and shut off the light. "Nox," he said with a smile as the light flickered out. "Goodnight, Derek."

"Good day, Abraham."

CSDS

Derek sat on his bed, staring at the shirt bundled in his hands, fists tight. He closed his eyes and an image of her face as she slept—long, pale eyelashes, porcelain skin, pale blue veins, and tangled hair swimming around her tiny face—was the last thing he thought of before he surrendered to sleep.

He dreamt of a wolf snarling and pinning a doe with her eyes.

CSDS

His alarm had barely finished the first beep when his hand flew up and slammed the Snooze button and rolled over. The sun had yet to peak and all he could see was the dark, rich sky twinkling with stars. Moonlight poured down onto him as he pulled off his comforter and stripped off his shorts. Naked, he gathered his running clothes and stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

While the water heated, he brushed his teeth twice, scrubbed his face free of the drowsiness of sleep and stared his reflection. His hair was black and lank and oily under the harsh fluorescent light above him; his eyes were a vibrant green that made people think he wore colored contacts and his skin was as pale as marble.

He ran his fingers through his hair with a frown as he felt the fine locks. _Maybe it looks oily because it's so fine_, he thought dimly as he stepped under the scalding spray of water.

CSDS

Chloe breathed in the cool, earthy air as she ran, her feet hitting the ground in a familiar pattern. Her mind was whirring, thoughts and voices swirling around and around in her brain.

She thought of Derek, his gentle words calming her when she let out all the pain with her cruel words about herself; Simon with his sulky escape; Aunt Lauren's babying that she hated so much; her father's refusal to look her in the eye; Liz's bright, bubbly chatter that made her mad and Tori's threat to claw Royce's smug face into pieces. She thought of her mother, whom she rarely though of because of the pain, and rolled around the idea of her still living.

_We'd be a happy little family_, she mused as she jumped over a half-rotted log and ducked under a low-hanging branch. Her breathing came easy, as she ran every day since her mother passed to help clear her head which was all too full too often, but her skin was hot and sticky with sweat. She dug her feet into the soft ground, pushing harder with her legs.

She followed the flow of the trail, focusing on the burn in her calves, the thrum of blood in her pulse, the pounding in her ears. She patted the sweat from her forehead with her wrist and continued, her gaze on her feet. _One, two, three, one, two, three. It's kind of like dancing. _She jogged around a fallen tree. _One, two, three, count like that, _she told herself. _I still remember when she and I used to race down the hill, our legs carrying us as fast they could. I always won, even if I slipped and slid down the hillside. I won. _

Chloe was startled out of her reminiscing when she saw a flash beside her, as pale as moonlight. Her step faltered and she caught her toe on a tree root, crashing face-first into the damp earth. Her head spun from the fall and she lay still for a moment, the blood rushing in her ears, heart thumping so loudly, it almost drowned out the sound of the light drizzle.

Her thighs quaked and trembled as she pushed herself up, brushing off her tank top absently. "Stupid tree root," she spat, wiping her mouth free of debris. Her knee throbbed and she glanced down, grimacing at the reddened flesh that threatened to bleed. When she got to her feet, she wiped down her legs carefully, stretched a bit, and continued to run.

Running was all she had.

She fell into the rhythm again but, before she could really lose herself again, she heard a voice that startled her.

"I though asthmatics had to stay _away _from physical exertion."

And that's how Chloe found herself face-to-face with Derek Souza—a sweat-soaked, musky Derek Souza, to be exact.

* * *

I decided to let Chloe be able to run. I got the idea from the award-winning SSHG fanfic "_Chasing the Sun" _by Loten_. _In one chapter, and from then onward, Hermione takes up running to join Severus each morning.

I thought it would be cute for Chloe and Derek to run together and it may come back later.


End file.
